


A Desperate Refrain; Some Measure of Hope

by starrylitme



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa Zero, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst and Feels, Brain Damage, Budding Love, Classical Music, Complicated Relationships, Doctor/Patient, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Frontotemporal Dementia, Hospitalization, Hospitals, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disintegration, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Music, Piano, References to Depression, References to Umineko No Naku Koro Ni, Slice of Life, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 02:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14823678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylitme/pseuds/starrylitme
Summary: Matsuda straightens up with a swallow.“I hold a lot of bitterness in regards to this stupid thing,” he huffed. “But... I guess none of that is the instrument’s fault. So I should just get the hell over myself.”With that, Matsuda begins to play.(In which in the midst of Komaeda getting treated for his FTD, the topic of music continuously comes up.)





	A Desperate Refrain; Some Measure of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> My jerk friend gave me the idea over having Matsuda play the piano for Komaeda while he was in late stages. I love and hate her for it.
> 
> And I already cry daily about the movie Coco. Great.
> 
> I ended up making this super indulgent, surprise to no one. Maybe someday I'll write something other than angst with these two. Considering I'm fucking alone on this raft, I'm going to have to if I ever want fluff. Sigh.
> 
> Anyway, uh, thank you for reading! Please enjoy!

“Matsuda-kun! G-Good morning!”

First thing he comes in, and he’s not even that surprised Komaeda’s already here. Komaeda’s waving at him from the patient bed, having already made himself cozy, smiling as cheerfully as ever. Running a hand down his face, Matsuda let out a long-suffering groan before waving back.

“Komaeda,” he drawls, shutting the door behind him. He rubs irritably at his eyes. “God, it’s too fucking early for this shit. The brain isn’t at its most active at these hours. It’s impractical as fuck.”

“Aha, you’re just not a morning person, Matsuda-kun,” Komaeda said with a happy-go-lucky tilt and grin. “You haven’t been staying up late again, have you?”

Matsuda yawned loudly and inelegantly.

“Matsuda-kun!” Immediately, Komaeda turned stern. “Getting a healthy amount of sleep is very important! As a doctor, you should know this!”

“It was the season finale of Mochi Princess,” Matsuda said with a dull shrug of his shoulders. “I didn’t want to miss it, especially since my video recorder is still stuck in fucking repairs. _Urgh_...”

Komaeda flinched, smile fading as he shrank in on himself. It’s too bright out for someone like Komaeda to look so meek and it really pissed Matsuda off.

“Sorry... My luck really is the worst, Matsuda-kun.”

“Forget it,” Matsuda waved his hand, striding forward to check Komaeda’s temperature. “Like I said, that shit was old, anyway. An antique. You’re looking paler than usual. You’re coming down with something, huh?”

Komaeda’s giggle was more of a wheeze.

“I had quite the migraine this morning so I came here and, well, I laid down for a bit... Now I’m so comfortable that I can’t get up, haha!”

Matsuda smacked him painlessly on the head.

“Aha, yeah, I deserved that,” Komaeda mumbled, rubbing at where he was hit.

Matsuda’s scowl deepened.

“Do you really think I don’t have a propensity for recognizing bullshit, Komaeda Nagito? At this point in my life? After having you as my patient for this long?” He growled. “I’m offended. But. Yeah. I can fucking _tell_ there’s more wrong with you than you’re letting on.”

Komaeda’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze was more vacant than before.

With a huffy sigh, Matsuda went to grab everything necessary for the usual scans and checkups. The machines, the sensory nodes, his clipboard. He sets it up quickly, fashioning a headpiece on Komaeda along with the nodes. He attached wires as well, noting Komaeda’s gaze following his hands.

“...what really _happened_?” Matsuda asked again, much more seriously. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I’ll attach you to the lie detector and force you to talk. Don’t think that I won’t.”

Komaeda’s lips twisted into a bitter, amused grin. Despite that, he kept his voice light and airy.

“When I woke up in my dorm room this morning, I had a panic attack because I had no idea where I was. I recovered and remembered, but—for but a moment, I completely _lost myself_ , Matsuda-kun. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Not personally,” Matsuda mumbled, turning everything on. “But I can imagine.”

Komaeda laughs. The sound is harsh and painful.

“Matsuda-kun.” He doesn’t think—he reaches out and grabs Matsuda’s wrist and squeezes. “I was so scared.” There’s such a rueful edge to the corner of his lips. “I just—I had to see you right away.”

“Which is a good call,” Matsuda said. “Something like that can be a sign that your levels of brain deterioration are getting worse.”

“Matsuda-kun...” Komaeda squeezes even harder. It’s hard enough to hurt, but Matsuda hardly seems bothered. “Matsuda-kun, even if it gets worse, you—you’ll make it better, right...?”

With a quiet intake of breath, Matsuda placed his free hand on Komaeda’s grip. He very carefully strokes those tensed, bone-white knuckles.

“Of course I will. That’s what a good doctor would _do_.”

“Good doctor...” Komaeda blinks, and some of the light returns to his eyes as he relaxes. “That’s right... Matsuda-kun’s not just a good doctor, he’s...he’s an elite...an...an _Ultimate_...”

Without missing a beat, Matsuda pried Komaeda’s hand off with ease.

“That’s right.”

* * *

When his mother died, there were many, many things Matsuda had sworn to himself once he decided he’d become a doctor. A good, _competent_ doctor.

Many of these things, he ended up breaking out of necessity. He told himself no experimental bullshit but—in the end such aggravating things were obligatory in this line of work. After all, it was how progress came about. Trial and error.

But one of the things he would do his damndest to never compromise on was how he would treat the patients emotionally. Matsuda knew he could be harsh, rude, pretty cold, but—he told himself when it came to seriously treating his patients like people, he was going to be _humane_. For not just the patients’ sakes but the sakes of their loved ones, too.

No one was going to feel the way he had under _his_ watch. He swore it. Over and over. Up and down.

_“And it’s that admirable quality of yours that I looooooove so despairingly muuuuuch, Matsuda-kun!!!”_

Matsuda waved that thought off for now, gritting his teeth as he watched Komaeda hum and move his fingers along with whatever the hell was on that shockingly pink music player. Matsuda turned back to his manga, but in the end, his gaze kept drifting back.

_The tests said he was stable—then that incident was just a random occurrence. But that doesn’t make much sense. I should run them again. Those previous tests might be a fluke, but... Komaeda’s gotten sicker, and I need to let that run its course before I try anything else. Dammit. Dammit!_

It really, really was **_rotten fucking luck_**.

Matsuda was this close to slamming his head against the desk.

_Komaeda Nagito...as rare a case as he is an infuriating one. But, of course, none of that is his fault._

And still, Matsuda felt bitter.

“La, la... Mm, hm... Ah, no, wait, I’ve gotten it wrong...”

Truth be told, at the time, Matsuda would’ve taken any form of a distraction.

“Oi,” he snaps. Komaeda snaps up, blinking wide eyes at him and removing his headphones. Matsuda raises an eyebrow. “What even the hell are you listening to? It better fucking not be that screamo shit your classmate apparently specializes in.”

“Oh, goodness, no.” Komaeda shakes his head curiously. “Um, uh, as wonderfully distinct as Mioda-san’s music is, it’s not...to my taste... I’m listening to classical piano music, actually, ehe...”

Matsuda straightens up at that, a lump forming in his throat.

“Classical...piano.”

Komaeda nods. “Yep. I’m quite the fan of Debussy— _La Mar_ is very, very beautiful, but ah, right now I’m listening to _Träumerei_ by Schumann. Um, that’s from _Kinderszenen; Op. 15_.” He fiddles with his fingers. “My father had an affinity for classical music. Jazz, opera, piano... Stuff like that. I guess I have an ear for it as well.”

Matsuda taps his fingers along the table.

“Ah, sorry, Matsuda-kun! I seem to have rambled for quite a bit,” Komaeda chuckles nervously, wringing his hands. “Oh, but, you seem rather deep in thought. Don’t let me distract you, then.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Swiftly, Matsuda shook his head. “I was just reminiscing. I’ve studied music quite a bit, actually.”

Komaeda perks up, brightening.

“Really?”

“Music therapy is a well-known treatment for the symptoms of dementia,” he said as though it was obvious. “So I studied music and how it stimulates the brain intensively. Not to mention when I was younger...”

Matsuda trails off. For a moment, his expression darkens as he recalls.

_One of the first things I put my mind to was learning to play the piano. I thought that if I could play mom’s favorite songs that she’d return to me in at least some form._

**_But of course those shitty doctors didn’t even allow that._ **

“So,” Komaeda says because of course he does. “Can you play anything, Matsuda-kun?”

_Of fucking course._

“Yeah,” he said, biting his tongue to keep himself from snapping. “I can play piano, probably. It’s been a while. I’m likely super rusty at it. Whatever. My hands are better suited for cutting through skulls, not cutting through musical notes.”

“Aww,” Komaeda laughs, just a little disappointed. “That’s a shame. You have very elegant fingers, Matsuda-kun. Pianist fingers. But...” Komaeda rests his cheek against his hand, eyelashes lowering, gaze admiring. “They’re surgeon fingers, too. Such delicacy. Such precision. Such beauty. Such _incredible_ talent. Matsuda-kun, I don’t doubt you could bring countless wonderful things to life with those hands of yours.”

Matsuda snorted.

“You make me sound like some mad scientist.”

“You do have quite the angry face!” Komaeda chirped good-naturedly. Somehow, that easygoing, carefree smile calmed Matsuda down a bit. Especially with that innocently sparkling gaze. “Matsuda-kun is much more kindhearted than that, though. Gentler. Sweeter. Ehe. I’m sure any music you play would be lovely just from having your beautiful, hopeful heart behind it.”

Anyone else would’ve cringed after saying something so irredeemably cheesy and saccharine. But Komaeda keeps on smiling at him without a care, heart proudly on his sleeve.

_It’s hard to stay angry over something stupid and in the past—when Komaeda is smiling like that._

That said.

“You shouldn’t be so sure,” Matsuda huffed. “If I play, I might get so frustrated that I’ll start slamming my head against the keys. I have a lot of bitterness over playing, actually.”

_Why would I say that so easily, just how **stupid** can I be—_

“Aww, that’s a shame.” Komaeda frowns in dismay, but that smile returns quickly enough. “I’ll respect that. I might be a little disappointed—I really would like to hear you play someday, Matsuda-kun—but all the same, I’ll respect your preferences. I don’t want you to get so frustrated that you hurt yourself.” He makes an almost comically serious face. “That’s no good at all! Especially when you hold the future of medical treatment in your hands!”

Matsuda shrugged.

“...I guess.”

_Ideally speaking._

“Never lose sight of what’s important, Matsuda-kun! Fight, fight, fight!”

“ ** _Urgh_**.” Matsuda set his manga aside to rub his temples. “Where do you get all your energy from?”

“From hope!” Komaeda exclaims radiantly. “The hope all around us!”

_Hope? In a place like this?_

Every inch of Hope’s Peak Academy’s main campus was blinding. That much was true. There was a sense of beauty, of preeminence, of _significance_. There was such vibrancy about the place that it truly was no wonder that the world looked to it. With such light, well—

That dark underbelly of the Reserve Course was all the drearier.

Komaeda likely knew this. But with those sparkling eyes of his, he likely overlooked it. With anyone else, that would be nothing more than privilege and willful ignorance. But... Komaeda was different.

_To someone like Komaeda, whose life was marked by constant, almost comically exaggerated levels of tragedy—it’s...more complicated than that._

Matsuda pushed himself up, the chair scraping unpleasantly against the tiles from the motion. Komaeda flinched, blinking several times as Matsuda stomped over to him.

“M... Matsuda-kun?”

“Move over.”

“M-Matsuda-kun?!”

“Did I fucking stutter? _Move_.”

Komaeda scrambled to scoot over and Matsuda plopped down in the space beside him, pressed up against the other so closely that their sides could’ve been fused. Komaeda shuddered, cheeks coloring, practically flaring when Matsuda laid his head against Komaeda’s bony shoulder.

He could hear Komaeda’s breath catch. If he focused, perhaps he could hear Komaeda’s heartbeat quicken. He could hear Komaeda’s music playing from the headphones and, honestly, it was pretty calming. Komaeda didn’t put off much heat, but—he was still pretty warm like this.

_Yeah, this isn’t half-bad._

Komaeda swallowed, inhaled, and exhaled.

“You need to rest, but you’re too stupid to listen to words.” Matsuda yawned. “So. I’m providing a demonstration.”

Settling and making himself comfortable, Matsuda relaxed and let his eyelids droop. Komaeda shivered once again, but he stilled after a while. After another while, he relaxed as well.

Ever so quietly, Komaeda warmly chuckled.

“Matsuda-kun, I really, really, really—”

Matsuda was starting to drift, so things were starting to get muffled.

“...ve...u...”

* * *

“Upupupu. You really are _funny_ , aren’t you, Matsuda-kun?”

Matsuda flipped through the results. Over. And over again.

“You swear to yourself that you’re going to change things, but in the end, you fall into the despairingly same cycle! Is that really just _bad luck_? What do you think?”

“I think,” he hissed, glaring holes into the reports. “I think you should just shut the hell up. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood.” She pouts, puffing her cheeks out. He doesn’t have to look at her to know and this knowledge prickles at the back of his neck. “But right now—you’re especially not in the mood, huh? So you’re that upset over that shit for brains wretch?”

_Thwack._

Matsuda stared her down with the coldest, iciest blues. Crimson beaded from the cut on her cheek, courtesy of then scalpel now lodged into the wall nearby. She laps the blood from her cheek, blinking up as Matsuda pointed his pen at her.

“If all you’re going to do is insult my patient, a guy who can’t even stand up for himself—you’re _a waste of my space_ ,” he snarled. “I don’t know how I can be clearer to a bimbo like you so I’ll just settle on repeating myself. I’m not in the _fucking mood_ , Junko.”

Junko gives a wobbly smile, eyes sparkling.

“God, you’re so cool, Matsuda-kun. You really know how to get a heart racing!” she gasps and then bites her tongue with an indecent shudder. “Ah, hah, that you’re so protective over someone else really is the most delicious despair!”

Matsuda could only roll his eyes before turning back to the papers. The files. The reports. Komaeda Nagito’s smiling student profile clipped to the front.

“Are you worried?” Junko asks him sweetly. She steps closer. “Are you scared? There, there, Matsuda-kun. If Komaeda-senpai is lost, then...”

Slowly but surely, her arms wrap around him.

“I’ll comfort you just as I had last time.”

Despite himself, Matsuda trembles. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve fallen into this deceptively warm and careful embrace. Instead, he shook his head fiercely and shoved her off.

“I don’t need _your_ shallow comfort,” he snapped. “I just need results. I’m not going to let this rare case slip through my fingers. That’s that. It won’t be like back then, it won’t—!”

Junko giggled, playing with his hair fondly. He irritably smacks her hand away.

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not _interested_ , you cheap whore?!” He has to catch his breath and rubs at his temple. “Urgh... Just... Just get out. Get out already. I don’t need this—I have more important shit to focus on right now!”

Junko’s smile never dropped for a moment. With a widening Cheshire Cat-like grin, she waves.

“Then, I’ll respect your wishes. Because I really do love that admirable determination of yours soooooo much, Matsuda-kun!”

At Matsuda’s look of disgust, she blew a kiss.

“Go on and do your best,” she said. “If it’s you, you can do it! And if you can’t, well... My arms are always open! I looooove you, after all!”

“Leave already.”

“Upupupu! Okay, okay! I’ll go on ahead!” She threw a blank, knowing look over her shoulder. “That hopeless hope-obsessed freak will bring you despair whether you save him or not. So really, I should be grateful towards him.”

“Get **_OUT!_**!!”

Junko slammed the door behind her before he could throw a book at her. Matsuda’s hands were still shaking and he brought his fist down hard on his desk.

A harsh thud. Pain bursting throughout, and he wrung his hand to get the feeling back in it. Biting his thumb in frustration, Matsuda’s gaze flickered back to the student file.

“...” He inhales deeply, slumping and burying his face into his hands as he exhales. “Komaeda...”

* * *

Komaeda’s normally impassioned speech had been getting harder to understand on an auditory level, and that stupidly bright smile of his, those stupidly bright eyes of his—were starting to fade.

The symptoms were getting worse. His sickness was accelerating. Like this, would Komaeda even pass his exams? Would this be another thing for the Steering Committee to hold over his head?

Sometimes, Matsuda finds himself just talking.

“Y’know, in the latest episode where Majorie was revealed to have been the goddess Reala the whole time, I was really pissed. My idiotic childhood friend said she called it, but I—I hadn’t thought she was serious.”

Just talking.

“Doesn’t this ruin the whole arc that Ruru had going for them? And what about Ari? This _completely_ changes the circumstances of her relationship with Majorie...”

And talking.

“Ruru had been suffering for _seasons_ and this is the answer they get for why everything’s so fucked up? What the hell are they supposed to _do_? It’s worse than a betrayal—it’s just...!”

And talking.

“It’s just _despairing_...!”

He stops and breathes. Komaeda hasn’t responded at all, instead just staring blankly at his hands. Emotion wells up, Matsuda stomps that down and stomps up to Komaeda.

“Oi,” he bit out. “Are you even listening?”

Komaeda blinks once, twice, and very gently, Matsuda touches his arm.

It’s so thin. So frail. If he wanted, he could twist it until the bone snapped without breaking a sweat.

Komaeda stirs slightly and blinks up at him, eyes heavy like he was close to falling asleep. Or unconscious. Or maybe, just maybe, just dropping dead then and there.

“...sari...” It’s nothing more than a slurred, pitiful apology. “Uuu...”

And somehow, Komaeda slumps even more.

“Mama... Papa...”

It hurts to watch. Stings something sharp.

“I’m the one here to take care of you, Komaeda,” Matsuda reminds him, gritting his teeth. “You remember me, right?”

“...sensei?”

Komaeda looks at him just as pitifully, like a dog expecting to be hit. Matsuda can only sigh. He rubs Komaeda’s arm carefully.

“It’s almost lunchtime. You need to eat, Komaeda.”

“Mm.”

* * *

_“To live and die an ordinary life with you... If only that could come true...”_

“Is that a ballad?”

“Ah, um, no, it’s...” Komaeda flusters as though embarrassed. “It’s just a song, Matsuda-kun.”

Matsuda blinks once, twice, and lays his head on his folded arms.

“I see. It’s not unpleasant, at least.”

Komaeda seems to get more sheepish, cheeks pinking. And it really does stand out so much against ivory hair and his fair complexion. For a moment, Matsuda wondered if acknowledging that thoughtless singing was the equivalent to stumbling across an intimate moment.

_It’s not very often Komaeda is vulnerable like this._

He shouldn’t think about that. And yet.

_Even Komaeda has a shy side. I want to tease him more._

He absolutely shouldn’t think about that. And, yet.

“Hey, Matsuda-kun?” Komaeda speaks up, hurriedly. Eagerly. “What kind of music do you like?”

_You’re just trying to change the subject._

“Anime themes.” Matsuda bites his tongue. “OST tracks are alright, I guess.”

“Oh, I like OSTs, too! So catchy! And so atmospheric at times!” Komaeda laughed. “I don’t, um, watch a lot of anime. But the music is okay from what I _do_ remember. I just prefer reading.”

Matsuda nods along mindlessly.

“When I’m reading I get lost, but...music is different, I think,” Komaeda muses. “Music can be so grounding. Fiction is always another world, another place, somewhere that _isn’t_ here but music... Music can be different. It’s interesting to think about.”

It was. _But_...

“I’m not a musician,” Matsuda said. “I’ve studied it for the sake of treatment—but that’s about all I can tell you. I certainly can’t explain the structure of certain pieces or certain terms. I _can_ speak fluent Latin though. If I wanted to.”

“U _wah_! Matsuda-kun really is so incredible!” Komaeda exclaims as Matsuda scoffs. Despite that, Komaeda continues to sparkle with admiration. “If you were a musician, you would definitely, definitely compose the most beautiful pieces!”

“...you mean play,” Matsuda replied dryly. “That’s different. A matter of notes on a page. Flexible. Nothing like what I’m used to. So why, exactly, do you think I’ll be any real good at it? I can follow directions and procedures. But music is more than that, isn’t it?”

_I’ve said as much before. And yet. And, yet._

“There’s a beautiful hope sleeping inside you, Matsuda-kun.” Komaeda smiled. “I think that would be more than enough.”

“You think?”

“I _know_.”

In a moment like that, it was hard to argue back fiercely. But Matsuda still wanted to. Far more than he could begin to comprehend.

_You’re wrong, I’m not hopeful at all, I’m not even all great a person—_

“I know,” Komaeda says again. “Because I love...that hope more than anything. So please, never forget that, Matsuda-kun.”

It hurt.

“Please? Never forget...even if I do.”

It really, _really_ stung.

“I won’t _let_ you forget.” He promises that, at least.

“Ah.” It stung so **bad** —and as always, Komaeda smiles without worry. “You really are wonderful, Matsuda-kun.”

* * *

Komaeda, unsurprisingly, is a bit of a messy eater. Food-laced saliva dribbles down his cheek more than a few times, and Matsuda has to wipe it away.

“Mm, hm...” Komaeda swallows, eyes squeezing tight as Matsuda cleans his face.

“You really are just a mess, aren’t you,” Matsuda murmurs. “Even before all this. Hey, Komaeda, didn’t I say that I wouldn’t _let_ you forget?”

Komaeda doesn’t even blink. He just picks at his food. It’s like he’s not even sure what it is. Fair enough. Hospital food is always garbage.

Komaeda really does seem to be nothing more than a husk.

It’s irritating. Infuriating, even. The memory of this person’s calm smile clings to the recesses of Matsuda’s mind like gum to a shoe.

_“Matsuda-kun.”_

He feeds Komaeda diligently.

_“Matsuda-kun, you’re so wonderful.”_

He wipes off his face again.

_“Matsuda-kun, if anyone can do it, it’s you, right?”_

Rinse. Repeat.

_“Matsuda-kun, Matsuda-kun...”_

Rinse and repeat.

_“Please don’t forget.”_

Komaeda’s eaten everything and he seems exhausted by the fact. He supposes now would be a good time to tuck the other in, to just put him to sleep to deal with later. Rinse and repeat. It’s like his internship all over again. Any respectable doctor would have just put him in a care home.

After all, it’s not like he has any family left to take care of him. All he really had to go back to was an empty house.

_Komaeda knows what that’s like, too._

And somehow, that little tidbit was what made Matsuda snap.

“Komaeda,” he finds himself saying, gently shaking Komaeda’s arm to stir him back awake. “Hey, Komaeda.”

“Mm...?” Komaeda blinks those glassy eyes back at him. “Hm?”

“Let’s go somewhere with a bit more atmosphere. This place is so sterile and dreary that I feel like I’m wasting away, too.”

Komaeda’s gaze lowers.

“...kay.”

“Okay,” Matsuda echoes. “I’ll help you get out of bed, then.”

_I’ll save you, Komaeda._

* * *

The music room isn’t that far off. It’s a bit of a hassle getting there, but it’s not too bad. Komaeda had to be pushed in a wheelchair, but that was alright, too. All the same, Matsuda managed, clicking the door shut behind them.

No one else was present. Lucky. The last thing he wanted was to chase some idiots off because the students here tended to make matters worse. And the last person he trusted anyone here with was Komaeda.

“Comfortable?” Matsuda asks as he helps Komaeda shakily seat himself before the piano. The seat was smooth. Easy. Komaeda adjusts himself instinctively, blinking and otherwise unresponsive. “There we go.”

Matsuda sits next to him, swallowing. Stupidly, he found himself getting a little flustered.

“You... You really are lucky,” he grumbled. “I wouldn’t put myself in his position for just anyone.”

Matsuda straightens up with a swallow.

“I hold a lot of bitterness in regards to this stupid thing,” he huffed. “But... I guess none of that is the instrument’s fault. So I should just get the hell over myself.”

_I still remember how to play. But..._

His hands rarely tremble when he prepares them. They never shake during operations, but here... Hovering over these sleek ivory and ebony keys, there are the slightest twitches in his fingers.

And he presses down on the notes, foot pressing down on the pedal. The sound is resounding.

Komaeda perks up.

“I’m gonna have to use my phone to look up the sheet music,” Matsuda said, fishing out said phone to do just that. “I don’t have time to sort through the library. It’s such disorganized garbage. What idiot’s in charge of straightening up the place?”

He finds the piece and sets his phone down. Komaeda blinks at it.

With that, Matsuda begins to play.

 _Träumerei_ starts off slow, but he still stumbles a bit over the notes. As he thought, he had gotten rusty. But, quickly, he gets the hang of it, fingers drifting over the keys.

He’s focuses on the music displayed on his phone screen, reaching out and swiping to the next portion when necessary. It’s a little tedious, but all the same, he manages.

Komaeda leans against him as he plays. Matsuda doesn’t dare look—if he’s playing, he needs to _focus_ on that.

And then, Komaeda softly hums along. And, quite clumsily, Komaeda’s fingers raise to tap out the next set of notes. It’s almost thoughtlessly how Komaeda tries to imitate Matsuda’s own movements as his gaze seems to flicker between that and the music.

Matsuda strikes the next chord. And the song fades out.

Komaeda giggled softly into his hand.

“I was right,” he murmurs, almost wheezing. “Matsuda-kun’s playing is beautiful. More so than my ever meager imagination could provide.”

Matsuda swallows, but he swipes the music off his phone.

“Are you done already?” Komaeda asks, frowning in disappointment. “You don’t want to play another song, Matsuda-kun?”

“We should probably run some scans,” Matsuda said. “Do some tests. The usual.”

Komaeda seems more sullen at the thought. Just like that, the sparkle in his gaze is dangerously close to flickering back out like a faulty light.

**_Dammit._ **

“...did you have any requests?”

Komaeda perks right back up.

“I had one!” he chirps. “Do you read a lot of visual novels, Matsuda-kun?”

Matsuda stares, and he blinks.

“ _Excuse_ me? Did you just ask me if I play _video games_?” He makes the sourest face. “I’m never touching one of those shitty things again. Not as long as my Tamagotchi remains _on a different fucking planet_.”

“Yours abandoned you, too, huh?” Komaeda asks and then laughs. “I was pretty heartbroken when that happened. Haha.”

Komaeda’s laughter sounds as pained as Matsuda had felt at the time.

_Together forever, my ass._

“But, y’know, a visual novel isn’t really a video game in the traditional sense,” Komaeda went on to say, likely eager to change the subject as quickly as possible. “A visual novel is... Mm...mostly reading...with music and visuals. It can be pretty relaxing. And even when a meteor shower is going on, the screen is bright enough to keep my attention!”

Komaeda laughs with more life than Matsuda’s seen in weeks.

“There’s one I really, really like. It’s about eighteen people on an island. And they have to solve riddles and murders.”

“That sounds really depressing,” Matsuda huffed, unimpressed. Despite that, he itches to hear more if only to see more of that smile on Komaeda’s face. “Although _seriously_? Mysterious murders on an _island_? That’s such a tired cliché. Anyone who resorts to it by this point should be ashamed.”

Komaeda puffs out his cheeks.

“It provides good atmosphere! The isolation! The sound of ocean waves crashing all around! Seagulls crying! Vividly blue skies! It’s a good setting, Matsuda-kun! A good, good setting! Just remembering it evokes chills and excitement all over again!”

_Remembering it._

Matsuda remembers, too. He can’t imagine it, that said.

_Oh, Komaeda._

“E-Eh?” Komaeda’s cheek inflame significantly, but they’re still pretty cold under his touch. Even Komaeda’s jawline is frail, and like this, that’s all the more apparent. “M... Matsuda-kun...?!”

He pulls away, swallowing as he did.

“I was just checking something. That’s all.” It’s a weak excuse even to his own ears. “So...what about crazy murder island #11037?”

“U-Um...”

Komaeda takes a deep breath.

“So actually... It’s going to take a while to explain the entire premise. It starts as a matter of inheritance but then it shifts to a series of locked room mysteries supposedly connected to a witch’s epitaph and supposedly committed via magic. Or so the witch claims.” He speaks a little too quickly, either from excitement or nerves. Or both. Probably both. “The main character doesn’t believe in magic so he has to come up with explanations for the murders that are grounded in realism. If he can’t do that, then the witch wins.” Komaeda’s breath catches and he fiddles with his fingers. “But there’s more to it than just _that_. It’s a love story!”

“Nothing speaks of romance more than a murder mystery plot,” Matsuda muttered.

“ _Right_?!” Komaeda exclaims. “Love is such a many-splendored thing! It can blossom so wonderfully even when the rest of the world goes to ruin!”

Matsuda rolled his eyes.

“...sounds a little trite to me...”

“I’m in a state where my very body is going to ruin but I still feel love so keenly, I think,” Komaeda babbled on and then quieted. “Aha, that said, I might end up dying without being loved in return... But I can’t lose hope...”

Matsuda stiffened, and then, Komaeda pressed down on a few of the keys. And then, rather clumsily, his fingers tapped along the ivory in a shaky little melody. He hums along.

It’s a song he seems to know rather well.

“Because I exist...a lot of people have been made rather miserable. An unloved ending would be rather fitting for me, but...” Komaeda smiles at him, then. “If I can continue to witness and experience Matsuda-kun’s radiance, I think that I can at least die a little happy. Even though I might lose myself again, I...”

Komaeda’s hand is cold under his own. It’s thin enough to bruise when squeezed. Komaeda tenses, but he relaxes as Matsuda’s thumb runs over his knuckles.

“You’re still here, aren’t you,” Matsuda said lowly. “Then there’s still a chance. You’ve got the Ultimate Luck. And I’m a damn good doctor. If you lose yourself, then I’ll bring you back again.”

Komaeda’s cheeks colored, and he chewed on his lower lip.

“...it’s not like...I have anything else to believe in...” he laughs softly. “But...I’ll continue believing, Matsuda-kun. For as long as I can.”

Matsuda only nods in return. He squeezes Komaeda’s hand.

A pause.

“A-Anyway,” Komaeda stammers, pulling his hand away. “The song I was trying to play is from that visual novel. I wanted to hear you play it, too.”

“Alright,” Matsuda opens up the internet on his phone. “So what’s the title of the song?”

“ _Hope_!” With just that word, Komaeda lights up like a Christmas tree. “It’s called _Hope_!”

“...of course. Give me the name of that murder not-novel romance not-game while you’re at it.”

Komaeda claps with beaming delight.

* * *

Despite Komaeda’s excitement, his low stamina eventually and inevitably gets the better of him. Matsuda had enough time to play a couple of other songs from that weird murder not-novel romance not-game thing, and it was halfway through one that Komaeda started to doze off, slumping and pressing up against his shoulder.

He hums, both musically and sleepily, and Matsuda pinches his cheek.

“Ouch!” Komaeda flinched awake. He whined. “Matsuda-kun, so cold!”

“This is a terrible place to sleep. Take it from my experience.”

“A-Ahhh...” Komaeda rubs his cheek. “I guess we should head back, huh. Ah, do you think I’ll be able to return to class soon?”

“Eh.” _I’m not sure why you’d want to._ “We definitely need to run those tests and shit.”

“Ehehe... Right, right.”

“Come on, then.”

Komaeda stumbles into him after being pulled up. Matsuda steadies him, and Komaeda’s expression is hidden by those long wispy curls of white. Komaeda wheezes out a not quite laugh and pulls away with a wobbly smile.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s whatever.”

Komaeda’s legs are still shaking. Matsuda can only sigh. Without another word between them, he helps Komaeda into the wheelchair.

“I might have to get a cane,” Komaeda says lightly. “Like an old man. Well, my hair is already so scrabbly and white.”

It’s the kind of thing Matsuda would say. For now, he bites his tongue as he pushes. Komaeda is quiet and pliant as he’s wheeled off. With the cozy enclosed space of the music room behind them however, the long, cold halls of Hope’s Peak Academy were all the longer and all the colder.

It was late, at least. Shifting from sunset to twilight. A couple of students are out and about for whatever reason. Matsuda could care less. And with how they seemed keen on ignoring both his scowling presence and Komaeda, it was all just as well anyway.

Komaeda, however, looks towards the windows, at the grand campus spread out. A smile plays at his lips. Content, some would say—if they were fucking _idiots_.

Komaeda’s small pitiful smile looked nothing short of desperate and lonely. It’s at irritating moments like this that Matsuda understands and wishes that he didn’t.

_“You swear to yourself that you’re going to change things, but in the end, you fall into the despairingly same cycle!”_

Violently, he shakes those words off. But the truth could be such a despairingly _stubborn_ thing.

“Mm... Matsuda-kun...?” Komaeda, despite everything, once more begins to doze off. “I know...someone who’s less than scum compared to you...shouldn’t request such things but...”

“Yeah, we might as well go back there,” Matsuda said dully. Unsurprisingly, he already expected the respect. Funny how fucking predictable Komaeda got after all this time. It was almost like his thought process was actually stupidly easy to follow. For obvious reasons, Matsuda didn’t like lingering on that. “You heard my playing, right? It’s a damn disgrace. I really seriously should practice more so that no one’s hearing is assaulted by shitty, rusty, beyond mediocre playing. Of course, your hearing isn’t great thanks to brain rot. Funny, that. It’s almost like brain rot is really fucking serious in just how much it messes with a person.”

Komaeda blinks up at him with withering eyes. Despite that, he smiles brightly. Matsuda doesn’t think about how much he missed even that shadow of a glimmer.

“I like to think heard it pretty clearly.”

In that moment, he wants to hold this person closely and tightly. Fucking obviously, he can’t do that with the wheelchair in the way. And he shouldn’t. For fuck’s sake, Komaeda is his _patient_.

_I’ll save him. I’ll **fix** him. I owe him that. As a doctor._

And beyond that, well—it wouldn’t matter.

_A guy like me with someone like him?_

“...whatever.”

“Ah, Matsuda-kun, are you _blushing_?”

“S-Shut up.”

With a sparkling gaze like that—who the hell was he _kidding_?


End file.
